


Orange Crush and Flicker

by voleuse



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-10
Updated: 2009-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-04 01:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>This isn't porno, it's a love story--tongues everywhere and desultory lines.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Orange Crush and Flicker

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 2.09. Title and summary adapted from Kristy Bowen's _Final Night at the Sunset Drive-In_.

Nate was attractive, Parker supposed, in an older, bitterer sort of way, but there was absolutely _no way_ she would ever go there, for many reasons that she decided she didn't need to think about. But he wasn't inherently repulsive.

"I mean," she continued to muse aloud, "he's good at planning, so he's probably _really good_ at getting someone to--"

"Oh my _god_," Hardison said. "Please don't finish that sentence. Please, _for the love of money_, don't finish that sentence."

Parker squinted at Hardison, then shrugged. "Fine," she said, refocusing on the security camera footage. "But you're the one who asked."

"I asked," Hardison said, "why women like Maggie and Sophie treat Nate like he's a hard candy jigsaw puzzle. I did not," he raised a hand, palm facing her, "_not_ ask you to speculate on his, you know, _whatever_."

"Okay," Parker replied, drawing the vowels long. They stared at the monitors in silence, where a tiny, monochrome Nate was shuffling across the museum with a horse-headed cane in hand. Parker contemplated his walk for a moment, then decided Hardison wasn't really upset, so she continued. "Skills-wise, he might be better than Sophie, but probably not Eliot. Definitely not Tara. They're all pretty up there, but _Tara_..."

Hardison choked on his slurpee. After he recovered, he glared at her. "I resent you a lot right now."

Parker tilted her head. "Why?"

"Because," Hardison said, "now I am thinking about this. I can't unthink this, and it is your fault."

Tiny, monochrome Nate thumped the floor with his horse-headed cane twice, and all the security cameras blinked out.

"Go time," Parker said. She strapped on her belt and a coil of bungee cord. "I love saying things like that."

"Something's wrong with you," Hardison muttered.

Parker smirked and pulled herself up, into the ventilation shaft. As she slid in, she ducked her head back out. "You're probably way better than Nate, but definitely not as good as Tara."

Hardison choked again, and Parker propelled herself into the echoing darkness.

*

 

Two nights later, Parker found Hardison crouched in the middle of her living room lighting a fat, burgundy votive candle. "Why are you lighting candles in my apartment?" Parker asked.

"Hell!" Hardison fell backwards, then glared at her. "Why are you coming through the window instead of the front door?"

Parker stepped down from the window sill. "I always come through the window."

Hardison stood up. "You don't have a fire escape!"

"I know." Parker surveyed the room, noting four other candles, already lit, and a scattering of rose petals. "What are you doing?"

"It's for ambiance," Hardison explained. "Haven't you ever watched a movie before?"

"Eh." Parker shrugged, then brightened. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"I--" Hardison blinked. "I wouldn't put it quite like that, but yeah." He cleared his throat, adjusted the collar of his jacket. "Since you put so much thought into ranking the whole team and all."

"Second's not bad," Parker pointed out. "Or third."

"Not for us," Hardison corrected. "Wait, third?"

"I don't really like roses," Parker said, shrugging out of her jacket.

Hardison scowled. "That wasn't in your file."

Parker snickered, then pulled off her shirt. As usual, she wasn't wearing a bra beneath it, and Hardison stared for a moment before recovering.

"I was going to, um," he stammered, "I have champagne in the fridge."

Parker slipped off her shoes. "I don't really like champagne," Parker said, and shimmied out of her leggings.

"Good to know," Hardison said. He took three steps forward and circled her waist with one arm, and she grabbed his shoulder and kissed him.

When they stopped for breath, Parker touched her lips to his jaw, then grinned. "You know I really can't tell if you're better than Tara unless I--"

"That's a good thought," Hardison said, "but save it for later, okay?"

Parker tugged at his collar. "Maybe you could, you know?"

"Right," Hardison said. "You are full of good thoughts tonight." He dropped his jacket on the ground, rested his hands on Parker's hips as she undid his jeans.

"How did you get in?" Parker asked. "Only half of my security system is electronic." She stepped back, watched him as he pulled his T-shirt over his head.

"Does Superman tell Lois all his secrets on the first date?" Hardison responded.

"Superman?" Parker asked. "Seriously." She kissed his throat and he laughed, and he picked her up and tossed her onto the sofa.


End file.
